Prayers
by randompandemic
Summary: When Inquisitor Róisín Trevelyan wakes one night, she finds her lover plagued by nightmares of his past - and only prayers can keep him grounded. (small one-shot of General/Military Advisor Cullen and my mage Inquisitor.)


The thunder was faint. She was not even sure that was what woke her in the first place. Rain was drumming against the window of her bedchamber and the sheet they normally used as cover was, as usual, kicked off sometime during the night. Trevelyan blinked sleepy and stretched, rolled over and tried to find a comfortable position to sleep again.

That was when she noticed he was gone. And instantly, all her senses were back, she was so alert she very nearly jumped out of the bed. She brushed back messy black strands of hair, stared wide-eyed around the room.

There he was. Familiar an image, though she had hoped to never have to have him go through it again.

Cullen was cowering on the floor, back pressed against the wall, rocking back and forth. His hands were clutched to his ears and he was muttering, she could not understand it at first. But then.

"_Maker, hear my cry:_" he whispered.

"_Guide me through the blackest nights_

_Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked_

_Make me to rest in the warmest places._"

He was reciting the Chant of Light. His eyes firmly closed, the words spilled from his lips. Not sung, but muttered, familiar verses he clung to like a drowning man to a lifeline.

Trevelyan leapt out of the bed they shared, picked the covers from the floor and came to her lovers side. As gentle as she possible could, she wrapped the sheet around his bare shoulders. He pulled away, screamed.

"Away, foul creature! You cannot corrupt me!" he screamed at her, his voice breaking in his throat. Lightning cracked past their window, lit his face for but a moment. He was trapped. She saw it written across his face. His mind was still asleep. And it tore her apart to see him so.

"Cullen… Cullen, please… please, my love… I am here, I will not harm you. I will not let _anything_ harm you…" she whispered, reached out ever so slowly to not startle him. Yet he only pushed her away, pulled further from her, until he was pressed into the corner. His hands were clenched to shaking fists, nails digging into his skin.

She felt tears well up, felt a knot rise in her throat. Helpless she knelt on the stone floor, watched him fall apart. Again and again she whispered his name, hoped he would hear her, wherever he was. And he simply grew louder in his fierce prayers, as if to tune out the foul tongues the demons of the Fade may whisper to him. Until he stumbled. Over his own words, over words he must know inside out, better than anything else. He was crying now, despairing, as the words he clung to for dear life failed him.

"_M-Maker_… _Maker, my enemies_… _are abundant_.

_Many… rise up…_"

He sobbed, his body nearly torn apart by the pain, his face a grimace of fear, agony, terror.

But this time she caught him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. She pulled him, against her, stroked his hair and whispered by his ear:

"_Maker, my enemies are abundant._

_Many are those who rise up against me._

_But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,_

_Should they set themselves against me._

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_

_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm._

_I shall endure._

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder._"

She whispered, and he followed. He followed her voice, the sobs and shaking ceased slowly and his voice grew firmer as he joined her in prayer. That she remembered the verses she used to recite as a child at all bordered on a miracle. Perhaps, in this stormy night, the Maker had his face turned upon them, to help her guide the man she loved back through the darkness.

Hesitant, his arms came around her as they slowly finished the verses together. He cried, still, his face buried at the nape of her neck, he held on to her like she was the only real thing and she felt her heart break, over and over, because he suffered so.

As the thunder rolled past and silence fell after the storm, they sat on the floor, she cradled him, rocked him in her arms. She knew not how long it took, but finally, _finally_ he whispered:

"Ros…"

She laughed, and cried, all at the same time, pressed her lips to his curls.

"Yes! Yes, I am here. I am right here, my love…"

He sobbed still, and closed his arms around her so firm she struggled for breath. It took several minutes more for him to lean back against the stone wall, for his breath to steady. His hands were shaking and she saw his nails had drawn blood in his palms. Gently she caressed the small wounds, kissed them, then kissed his lips.

"I… I am so sorry… I did not mean to frighten you…" he whispered. She shook her head.

"Don't apologise. You have seen terrible things. One day, maybe you will talk to me about them. But know that until then and beyond, I will _always_ be here. I will help you fight off the nightmares. "

He nodded slowly and gazed up at her, a long, mystified look that made her wonder if he was truly, fully awake. But then he smiled and reached out to touch her face. He gently wiped away tears that had gone completely unnoticed.

"I love you," he said. For the first time.

* * *

Author's Note:

One of my One-shot of Military Advisor Cullen and my Inquisitor Róisín Trevelyan. I felt like spreading some Cullen love today, hope you enjoy.


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